


I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done (but I haven’t stopped loving you once)

by MissShipper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Jon Snow Knows Something, Jon has a POV in this, Jon is Sansa's biggest fan, Jon is really fucked up and emotional, Mentions of Arya and Bran, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, Post-Canon Fix-It, Queen of ashes is also mentioned, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sansa is Jon's biggest fan, So does Sansa, So is Sansa, Unresolved Emotional Tension, basically they talk through stuff, but are really happy by the end, kind of smutty but not that smutty, they start this being miserable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissShipper/pseuds/MissShipper
Summary: When he feels her arms against his body, he does not reciprocate immediately. Part because it breaks his heart, part because he wishes it never ends. Mostly because he hates it that it’s all so damn complicated. But he can feel her warm breath on the crook of his neck, he can hear her soft cry near his ears, so he just holds on to dear life.He holds her fiercely and tight, so tight that he fears it’s going to hurt her, but he feels her heart and her body and her breath and they can’t let go of each other. He breathes her in for the last time, one last time, and he curses himself, because, fuck, how did I ever think I could say goodbye without feeling home again?He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her.Or, Jon returns to Winterfell after four years of living in exile. He finds comfort in Sansa as they find their way to forgive each other.





	I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done (but I haven’t stopped loving you once)

He’s been miserable for days. Trapped in a cell, away from the world, all by himself. He can barely see the light of the sky, but it doesn’t matter anyway. All he sees is grey.

 

When he learns from Tyrion, who turned out to be a Lannister, afterall, that he’s going to live in exile in Castle Black, he almost laughs. _Gods, is this really what am I supposed to do?_ , he thought, but it vanished as soon as he remembered what he had done. He had murdered Daenerys Stormborn. He had murdered his Queen. He was just getting what he deserved.

 

He does not allow himself to think otherwise —  _No, I deserve it. I doesn’t matter if she had just burned innocent people alive. I killed a Queen. I deserve to be punished,_ he repeated to himself, over and over, day after day, so that he could start to believe in those words.

 

When he is allowed to come out of the cell, it feels strange. Suddenly, the world is bigger than he ever remembered it was. He is escorted to the bay as his eyes are still adjusting from the clarity.

 

He is taken aback when he sees her. Jon did not expect to see his family standing side by side, waiting for him. King Bran, Arya, Sansa. _Sansa_. She looked at him with pleading eyes and it killed him that she was blaming herself for all this misery. _It’s not your fault, Sansa. I’m sorry, Sansa. I should have listened to you, Sansa_ , he thinks, but he does not say it.

 

“I wish there’d been another way”, she offers, of course she is the first to say a word, and he can barely look at her. _It’s not your fault_ , he repeats. “Will you forgive me?”, Sansa asks and all at sudden he is angry. He wished she never said anything about his true identity, that she liked Daenerys and even that she agreed with him and had bent the freaking knee, so that he wouldn’t have to kill the Queen. So that he wouldn’t have to go back a place he now despises. So that he wouldn’t have to leave her. It’s selfish, he knows. Coward, even. But just for a moment, for a little moment, he wishes it.

 

But then he looks her in the eye. And all his thoughts are nonsense because, really, how could she give up the North after everything they’ve been through, together, to take it back from the Boltons?  How could she give up everything they shared right after? The feeling of, finally, belonging. The feeling that they were exactly where they needed to be in order to heal. _Together_.

 

He sighs, punishing himself for ever thinking that she should’ve bent the knee. Then he nods. It’s subtle, but he hopes that she knows that he has forgiven her. _Gods, why was she even asking for pardon?_ _You have nothing to be sorry about, Sansa. It’s okay. I understand now. You were protecting home._

 

“The North is free, thanks to you”, he manages to give her a half-smile.

 

“But they lost their King”, she answers and all he can think is that she is going to be a great ruler. So he says it, for this are some of the words that he can spill without giving it all away.

 

“Ned Stark’s daughter will speak for them. She’s the best they could ask for”, he looks into her eyes and he knows she’s going to hug him, but he does not want it, he does not deserve it.

 

When he feels her arms against his body, he does not reciprocate immediately. Part because it breaks his heart, part because he wishes it never ends. Mostly because he hates it that it’s all so damn complicated. But he can feel her warm breath on the crook of his neck, he can hear her soft cry near his ears, so he just holds on to dear life.

 

He holds her fiercely and tight, so tight that he fears it’s going to hurt her, but he feels her heart and her body and her breath and they can’t let go of each other. He breathes her in for the last time, one last time, and he curses himself, because, _fuck, how did I ever think I could say goodbye without feeling home again?_

 

He buries himself on her neck as his tears join the fabric of her dress. _One last time,_ he thinks, and then he lets go of her.

 

Arya can’t meet his eyes at first. She’s too sad and he’s too depressed to even try to comfort her, but he tries anyway.

 

“You can come see me, you know. At Castle Black”, he starts, his arms on her shoulder to give her assurance.

 

“I can’t”, she answers and he is too naive to think Arya is afraid of the Night’s Watch.

 

“You think anyone would dare tell you women are not allowed?”, he tries to laugh. His sweet, brave Arya. _She could go anywhere._

 

She smiles sadly at him. “I’m not going back North”. He hears Sansa questioning her future, and then he just gets it. He wishes she would stay a little longer at Winterfell, but he understands it.

 

“What’s west of Westeros?”, she simply inquires. He truly smiles and it’s strange, because he hadn’t smiled like he meant it in a long, long time. He was happy for her.

 

“I don’t know”.

 

“No one knows”, he hears her soft voice say. She is dreaming of discovering a whole new world and it gives him an ounce of hope. _Someday, maybe someday. They would all sit by the fire and listen to the stories of an unknown land._ “That’s where the maps stop. That’s where I’m going”.

 

It pains him to no end to say goodbye to Arya. “Do you have your needle?”, he knows she’s got it, because needle is Ned, and Catelyn, and Robb, and Sansa, and Bran, and Rickon. Needle was their friendship. Needle was Winterfell and House Stark and their childhood. She does not have to say it, because he just knows.

 

“Right here”, she barely manages to answer before he pulls her into his arms. _This is too painful_ , he thinks. He cherishes Arya’s kindness and carefree spirit. _May this world be good to you, little one._

 

Then, he kneels. “Your Grace”, he starts. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me”.

 

“You were exactly where you were supposed to be”, Bran answers. _King Bran_ , he corrects himself. It seems like his little brother, or cousin, is freeing him from all of the misery he feels inside, yet he cannot allow himself to accept it.

 

Not when he was so very blind and complicit. Not when he’d been warned many, many times. He hates himself for what he’s done do thousands of innocent people.

 

He nods, but he does not accept it. Before he goes, though, he allows himself to take a look at her.

 

 _One last time,_ he keeps saying. _One last time._ He opens his mouth, because he so desperately wants to say that he’s sorry, and that he should have listened to her, he should have trusted her, he should have believed in her in the same way that she had believed in him.

 

Instead of spilling his thoughts, he shuts his mouth again. _It’s better left unsaid. It would only cause more pain._  His eyes turn to his family, his beloved family, whom he wanted to be with for so very long. Then they shift to Sansa once more. He just can’t help it. The pull is too strong, and he wants her figure to be the last thing he sees when he leaves the goddamn South. He wanted to carry her image with him during the journey do Castle Black. But she is sad, too sad, and he wants to kill himself because it’s all his fault.

 

Beautiful, loving, smart Sansa. He remembered the feeling of acceptance and how it made him so, so happy to just be by her side. He’d come to love her suggestions and how it was so annoying that she was always right in the end.

 

He remembered building their relationship. He remembered rebuilding Winterfell with her. He remembered how sparkly her eyes became when she was helping her people. No one better than her to rule their home. Lady Stark of Winterfell. The Queen In The North. It suited her. He remembered how they had lunch at her chambers, and how they shared soup in the evenings, and how Sansa always managed to insert lemon cakes everytime she got the chance. He did not care, for her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in the entire Seven Kingdoms. He remembered how it all came down to her.

 

He was keeping a promise. “I’m going to protect you, I promise”, he remembered. So how could he not do it, really? It was Sansa they were talking about.  

 

He took a deep breath.

 

 _One last time,_ he took her in. _Oh, how sweet it would be, to see her once again._

 

He turns on his heels and never looks back.

 

 ***

 

 

The first years of her rule had been harder than she thought it would ever be. She felt tired. Rebuilding a home all by herself was not an easy task, and although she managed it quite well, she wished she had help.

 

She was tired of loneliness. Arya sends a raven every four moons or so, but it’s just not enough. She misses her spirit and her personality. She remembered how, not long ago, Arya would help her with sorting out their problems or whatever meaningless concern some lord was ranting about in the Great Hall.

 

She remembered Arya mocking them, later, in her chambers. _How rude of her_ , Sansa thought. _I love it._ _I love her._ _I’m so glad that she is here._ But now she’s gone, gone, gone away and she just wished that she had stayed a little bit more. She knew it was selfish to ask, and that Arya would eventually come back, but she just wanted to be reunited with her family.

 

He communication with her brother, who also happens to be King, is quite strange. The Kingdoms have a great relationship. But still, it feels strange. Maybe it’s because her baby brother has not been her baby brother for a long, long time. But she missed every version of him. _Gods, why is it so hard? Why does it seem like I have all I wanted and instead of being happy, I just feel empy?_

 

She just wants all of them back in Winterfell. Together. Again. And forever.

 

It seemed so long ago. The day they had to say goodbye to Jon. She hated everything about that day because she was losing him and it was pointless. Jon was King In The North, _gods_ , the North does not give a fuck about Daenerys Targaryen. In fact, they were horrified of what she had done. And she tried, she tried so hard to get him home. She wished so very badly that it would be different. He did not deserve to go back to Castle Black. He absolutely hated that place, he had told her one day when they were having supper in his chambers. He had cried, telling her all about how he felt belittled, and how he only wanted to help. That night, she stroked his hair until his tears went dry. She let him heal. _They betrayed him_ , she recalls telling Bran. _They killed him. The Watch does not exist anymore. Jon did the right thing._ She tried for what it seemed to be decades, but they never listened.

 

Arya would also say that he did the right thing, that he killed a tyrant, that he should just come home to Winterfell. But they never listened. And even worse, they allowed Grey Worm to go whatever the fuck he wanted. She tried to reason with Bran and Tyrion, but they never listened. She remembers the look she exchanged with Arya the moment they decided Jon’s verdict. He would live in exile. _How pathetic_ , she thought. _He does not deserve it._ She feels like she had failed him.

 

But Jon is an honourable man. Of course he does not question his destiny. Of course he would punish himself for killing the woman he loved.

 

She is on her foot, looking the snow fall through the windows of her chambers and suddenly she is back at King’s Landing. He’s in front of her and he’s pissed that she’s apologised. He should’ve known better. Of course she would apologize. She did what she thought was right to do, and she hopes that someday he will forgive her, because it was not her secret to tell. She knew that. She knew he was hurt because he never wanted to be a Targaryen, and that he was not ready to talk about it either.

 

But he is _not_ a Targaryen. _No, he is a wolf._

 

He will always be a Stark.

 

But she could not bear the thought of losing him. Jon was comfort, and belonging, and kindness and duty and easy smiles. So she had to do something to protect him.

 

She stares at the grey walls of Winterfell. Some of them are still black from the dragonfire. Some of them are still in need of repair. And she just wants so very much that he walks through the gates and that he holds her tight, and that he stays by her side, as her equal, as they rebuild home once again.

 

But he does not. _He is not ready yet_ , she tells herself every day. _He is not ready to come back._ She closes her eyes and she can feel his tight, fierce grip at her waist back in King’s Landing. She touches that area of her back and she can almost feel his huge hands holding on to her for dear life.

 

They were so miserable that day. And yet she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave.

 

A tear falls down her pale face and she sighs. So many things were left unsaid. So many secret feelings still hiding within her core. _When will we meet? Will we ever meet, at last?,_ she cries and cries and cries. _I need to see you. I need you to come back. I can do this by myself, but I don’t want to. It’s just so much better when you are here with me. It’s so much better when we talk about everything and nothing during dinner in my chambers. It’s so much better when you hold me, and you wipe my tears, and you listen to me, and you help me heal._ She even missed the arguing, for they would always come an understanding.

 

She takes a deep breath and cleans her face. She’s back at Winterfell. She’s home, even though it does not seem quite like it. She closes her eyes, and he’s burying his face at the crook of her neck.

 

When she opens her eyes, he is not there. He is so close, but not by her side. _I am alone_ , she states. Like she is reminding herself of the reality and that she’s got to move and be a Queen.

 

She walks past the door of her chambers, but the corner of her eyes catch a glimpse of a green dress she once sewed herself.

 

“I like the wolf bit”, he had said. She sadly smiles.

 

_Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again._

 

***

 

The snow has melted into rain when she receives the raven. Sansa is sitting in her chamber’s chair, her elbows are placed at the border of the table. Her eyes start to fill with water when she reads the message that marks the scroll.

 

_Your Grace,_

 

_If you’ll have me, I would like to come home._

 

He does not sign it, and yet she knows it’s him. Of course it’s him. It could only be. She lets out a sigh of relief and allows herself to smile between tears.

 

_I’ve been waiting for you._

 

She hurries herself to find a servant to send a raven back to Castle Black with her answer. She prays to the gods that he leaves Castle Black the moment he gets it. A few moons ago, she heard whispers that he was living beyond the wall. Although it hurt oh so much to know that she would probably never get to see him again, she managed to be happy that he wasn’t miserable, all by himself in Castle Black. So his message had really surprised her.

 

She calls a meeting with the lords at the Great Hall right after to deliver the news. They seem happy and excited that Jon Snow is coming home.

 

Some lord of a small house, though, had expressed his concern. “I fear that he will bend the knee to another foreigner”.

 

Sansa takes a deep breath and almost rolls her eyes. “He did what he had to do in order to save us from the Army Of The Dead. He fought by my side during the Battle of The Bastards. We reclaimed Winterfell, our home, together. He was just protecting the North, shall I remember?”, she stated.

 

The lord bows as if he’s really ashamed. “Of course, Your Grace. The North remembers”.

 

She nods, smiling.

 

Jon takes almost four moons to get to Winterfell. He can now see the castle from afar. It looks so tiny, like it could be destroyed at any moment. But he knows it can’t be destroyed, Winterfell was strong. The castle survived The Army Of The Dead and dragonfire. It had survived the Boltons.

 

Jon smiled. The smell of the rain in the grass felt different, but he enjoyed it anyway. Once he lived some time beyond the wall, where the lands seemed to be just the same and plain white, it was nice to see something else.

 

But there was no feeling like being home. He had gone back to Castle Black just to send her a raven. He was not running anymore. He needed stability and safety. He knew he would find it in Winterfell. _He knew he would find it within her._

 

He did not expect her answer to come so soon. In fact, he did not expect an answer to come at all. Sansa hadn’t tried to get in touch with him during those years and he was certain that the word that he was living with the wildlings arrived in Winterfell. And, to be truthful, he thought that that was going to be his end. It felt good to be free.

 

But then the time passed. And although he was supposed to feel happy, his body was full of emptiness. When he decides that it’s time to go back, he never meant Castle Black. But he still was a Queenslayer in exile. So he had to ask for mercy first.

 

When he read the raven that Sansa sent, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. _I’ve been waiting for you,_ the ink on the scroll said, and all at once he felt overwhelmed. Sansa hadn’t forgotten about him. She was being respectful and giving him some space. He couldn’t help a smile.

 

Jon had learned that growth comes from change. And change was something that seemed to be consistent in his life. Sometimes he would accept it with ease, sometimes it came off a little harder. But he had learned that he could only grow up with a few changes. And that accepting those changes were what brought him happiness.

 

But happiness, to Jon Snow, had auburn hair and blue eyes. Happiness was Sansa. She was acceptance and love and will to live and reason to fight. She was everything he had wished for so very long, all in one person. Sansa was the North. She was Winterfell. It’s _home_.

 

It’s coming back home after being lost around the world for decades. It’s _finding_ home, even, after feeling left out for a lifetime.

 

 

When she hears the sound of the gates opening, she hurries. _Quick, quick, quick. He’s here, you fool! You’re not fast enough. Go! Run! Don’t fall! Lift up this freaking dress!_

 

He is stroking Ghost when she sees him. A gasp comes out of her mouth and it catches his attention. His mouth is open and he is stumped to see her again. _So sweet, she is so sweet._

 

They start to walk towards each other at the same time. When they are face to face, he seems like he is going to kneel before her, but she does not let it. Instead, she touches his arm to stop him and throws herself against his body. He holds her tight and suddenly is crying because Sansa, his beloved Sansa, is finally in his arms again.

 

“I missed you so much”, she whispers. “I missed you so, so much”. He lifts her up from the ground and their grip is so intense that they are swaying. _Like a dance._

 

“I thought that I was never going to see you again”, and it is the first thing he says, looking into her eyes. She is taken aback by the sound of his voice. Husky as always, but it had gotten deeper. The other thing that she notices is that he seems more relaxed, although his brooding, black eyes are still there.  “I mean, it’s good to see you, Your Grace”, he corrects himself, only now realizing that they were at the courtyard and people were watching.

 

She smiles. “It’s good to see you too, Jon. I’ve been waiting for you”, she voices the words from the raven she sent it, not long ago, and he chuckles.

 

He was happy. And so was she.

 

It’s almost noon when they enter her chambers. She had asked a maid to send food. _Don’t forget the lemon cakes_ , she had said, and as soon as he heard lemon cakes, he had a big wide smile on his face.

 

They had so much to talk. And yet he wanted, for now, just to look at her. To breathe her in. To be close to her, to feel the heat of her body, to hold her and never let go. But her face is full of questions, so he decides that he will answer all of them. But, first, he needs to know how she is doing.

 

“So… Queen In The North, huh?”, he offers as they are sitting across the fireplace. “I like your crown. The wolf bits”, he awkwardly gestures his hand to her head.

 

Sansa’s cheeks are flustered and she laughs nervously, looking down at her hands resting by her legs. When she lifts her face to look at him, Jon is giving her one of those deep gazes. And oh, how she had missed the warmth of his eyes.

 

“Well, if you like the crown, you’d love my coronation dress”, she says, and he can sense some sort of pain in her voice. “I had it made so all of you would be here, with me. The black cloak on my left shoulder is you. The two wolves crown is Robb. The one-sided cloak is Arya. The tufts of the black fur is Rickon and the weirwood leaves is Bran. The scaly pattern of the arms is Mother. It was grey because of Father, and house Stark, and Winterfell”, she pauses and lets out a sigh. “I should show you someday.”

 

“Yeah, I would really like that”, his voice is full of emotion and he is not, by any means, fighting back his tears. “It seems like a glorious day”.

 

“It wasn’t”, she cuts him off. “I felt lonely without you, or Arya, or Brienne by my side. I looked for familiar faces in the crowds, but there was no one who I held dear to my heart.”

 

He feels like he’s being stabbed again. There’s just so much pain in her voice. He approaches her, sitting on the floor, and searches for her hands. He caresses them, and the act of intimacy sends shivers all over her body. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Would be the first one to kneel.”

 

She smiles. “Nonsense. You’d still be King, you fool.”

 

“You know I never wanted a crown”, he softly says, his voice is almost a whisper. “Winterfell always belonged to you.”

 

Sansa nods, never breaking eye contact. “We’d rule together.”

 

He looks at her with so much devotion it almost makes her cry. The reflection of the fire on the side of his face is quite a sight. _Should this be the last thing I see, it would be more than enough,_ she thought. Sansa puts one hand on his cheekbones and he leans in to her touch, closing his eyes.

 

_I should’ve asked you to stay. I should’ve begged you to stay._

 

“It was not only your decision to make,” The sound of his voice surprises her. She must’ve mumbled the words. “I know you asked for mercy, Sansa. But you set me free. I was going mad in that cell, you know.”

 

She gasps at the realization. _The North is free, thanks to you._ “You are the North”, she says, softly.

 

“Aye. And so are you”, he nods, looking at her. Sansa lets go of his hands, only to sit on the floor by his side. She looks wondered and he thinks that she never looked so beautiful. “You understand it now.”

 

Sansa embraces him. _Just let me in your arms,_ she thinks, she prays, she begs. She felt an earthquake in the room as he held her. It felt like they were melting into each other. Why did it seem like her heart was aching? What was going on? Why was Jon stroking her hair, her back, her face as her head found comfort on his shoulders and neck?

 

She was always careful around him. She knew that her feelings could’ve frightened him. _Gods_ , it had frightened her. She was sure he was never going to look at her the way she looked at him, but she never discouraged what his eyes seemed to encourage, very silently. She lifts her head and they are _close, so close._ She decides that she will share her deepest secrets right now, as his eyes shift from her eyes to her mouth.

 

A knock on the door brings her back to reality. “Your Grace, dinner is ready to be served”, a servant says by the other side of the door. Sansa gets up and Jon mirrors her actions. She sits on a chair, but he stills stands, unsure of what to do.

 

“Come on in.”

 

The servant enters her chambers, leaves the plenty amount of food and wine by her table, and leaves.  

 

“Sit, Jon. You must be hungry. I for sure am.”

 

He does as she tells him, sitting by her side and pouring them some wine. They exchange some looks during dinner, but not a word escape their mouths. _It’s like he’s got a hold of me,_ Sansa realizes as she gives him a soft smile. Jon smiles back.

 

“How is life beyond the Wall?”, he hears her voice say as they are, once again, sat by the fire. Jon watches the flames burn the wood and it does not give him a good memory, so he turns his head towards her instead. Sansa seems to notice the subtle shake of his head, but she chooses not to talk about it at this very moment. _Not yet._  

 

“It is pretty good, actually”, he starts. “No duty. Just wandering around ice trying to find somewhere warm to spend the night. It’s beautiful out there, Sans.” He gives her a vague answer, he knows. She doesn’t seem to like it, though.

 

“Ghost must’ve loved it. Running wild and free, exploring new lands. No grey walls or limited space for him”, she suggests. Jon nods, because Ghost did, in fact, love the icy lands. “If you liked it there so much, why are you here?”

 

There is no sign of dissatisfaction in her voice. She seems to ask out of pure curiosity.

 

“There was just this emptiness inside of me”, he sighs, breaking eye contact. Jon holds his hands to his face, looking defeated. When he starts to rub his hand on his eyes, all of sudden trying to hide his tears, Sansa reaches out, searching for his hands, trying to give him comfort. _I know the feeling._  

 

“It’s been four years, Jon. You need to let go of the guilt and misery. I know you loved her, but you need to forgive yourself”, she reassures him. Even if voicing those words hurt her, she tried to comfort him.

 

“I did not”, he stutters, and she almost can’t hear him. “I thought I loved her, but I didn’t”. He finally lifts his eyes, only to find Sansa drowning in confusion. “I was just so desperately trying to protect you. To protect our family. She had freaking dragons and this huge army and she could be very kind. It felt like she was invincible. So I was charmed, but then she started to burn people simply because they would not agree with her. They didn’t have a choice. And King’s Landing happened. I was out there, Sansa, on the battlefield. Innocent people, children—little children, burned. I was complicit to every thing that happened that day.”

 

Her hands still rest by his, only now she intertwines their fingers. Her eyes are filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Jon. I can only imagine the horror.”

 

“I am the one who should be saying sorry. You tried to warn me so many times. Arya tried. I never listened. I thought I could help her control her impulses. But I was wrong. I never could. A true northern fool”, he smiles, sadness taking over as he speaks.

 

“But you stopped her”, she starts again, after a few moments of a silent cry. “I was so hurt, you know. I felt silenced, you would simply not listen to me. Suddenly you had given up the North, our home, to this foreigner. Our home, that we took it back together and almost died in the process. One day you are King in The North, the other there was no independent kingdom at all. It was like you had simply walked out the door.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry, Sansa. I could not bear the thought of losing you. She was threatening you and, therefore, Winterfell. I wanted to tell you, to yell for the Seven Kingdoms, that I was trying to reason with her. But I was scared of being accused of treason”, he honestly declares.

 

Sansa pours them more wine. She takes a sip, breathing heavily. “All of this whilst being in the middle of an existential crisis. _Aegon Targaryen_. I hope that someday you can find it in your heart to forgive me for what I have done.”

 

“There is nothing to forgive. You were trying to protect me. I was doing just the same to you”, he assents and she feels as her heart is going to come out of her mouth. “But I am no dragon. I’ve never been. And I will never be.”

 

“You belong in the North”, she agrees. “But it was the questioning that guided your whole life. You wanted to serve the Night’s Watch because you felt left out here in Winterfell, being raised as a bastard. I know it was hard for you to face the truth of your true identity.”

 

Sansa carefully stares at him. She has pleading eyes and Jon sighs at her sight. The fire reflected her auburn hair, making it seem like she was kissed by the flame.

 

“I was mad at Ned Stark at first”, Jon hisses. She notices that he does not refer Ned Stark as his father anymore. “But he was trying to keep me alive. At first I was in denial and, in fact, couldn’t say a word about it or else I would be accused of treason”, he says, kind of annoyed.

 

“And yet you told us”, she remembers.

 

“Of course. Family, duty, honor. I could not hide something like that from you and from Arya. We can’t fight a war amongst ourselves. We needed to trust each other. So I did not want to lie to you. I was afraid that it would change our dynamic.”

 

 _It changed everything_ , she thought. The day he told her they were actually cousins, she was relieved. Her feelings had been eating her alive. How could she be in love with him, of all people? But Jon turned out to be the only place in which she felt truly safe. He was home. They met and her word was going crazy, she didn’t know who she could trust, she was damaged and in so much pain. And when they were reunited, they were actually getting to know each other. With him, it was so easy... Building a relationship.

 

She was scared, at first, of what she was feeling. But it came so naturally. She came to the conclusion that they’ve fought the same demons, but in different circumstances. Bottom line being, they just wanted love and acceptance and to belong. And they found it in each other.

 

Sansa has many secrets. A cavern of them, to be sincere. She decides that, tonight, none of them are for Jon.

 

“You are a wolf and will always be.”

 

“Winterfell is our home”, he agrees. _You made it feel like a home for me._

 

“But it did change our dynamic, though.”

 

He looked at her and the mood had shifted. His breath was gasping, like what she had just said was the end of the world.

 

“What do you mean?”, Jon asks as he tightens his eyes. It takes everything in him to look at her. She feels like she is going to faint.

 

Breathless, she manages do answer his question. _This is it._ _Say it, girl._

 

“I’m so used to the lie by now. And you always seemed so down to deny what was happening”, she emphasized _._ “But I have a feeling that you are the one for me.”

 

He wheezes as Sansa walks towards him. She lowers herself, so that they are facing each other again, and places her hands in his chest, feeling his heavy breathing. His dark eyes are surprised and amused. She feels his hands fall at her waist, as if he was encouraging her.

 

“I love you, Jon. And I want you to let me love you.”

 

He looks at her mouth and licks his lips unconsciously. _Thank you, Gods._ She sits on his lap.

 

“Sinc—”, he hisses and clears his throat. “Since when?”

 

“It’s been a while. But when you waved goodbye to leave for Dragonstone, I knew it.” His hands are going up and down her back. Her hands are smoothing his loosen black curls and the simplicity of her touch sends shivers down his whole body.

 

“I’ve dreamt about you all these years. When I was out in the woods, with the wildlings, I would dream of you every night”, he confesses as she leans in, their foreheads touching. “It would be so sweet to see you once again. In my fantasies, you’d want me as much as I want you.” He shuts his eyes.

 

She feels like crying when she closes the distance between their lips. At first, it was just a peck. They were just touching, gently, softly, delicately. When he opens his mouth, she can feel his full lips between hers, and all at once, everything makes sense. She is blossoming like a flower, and he feels like he is on the top of the world.

 

His kiss is a passion that ignites, and a promise of something real, and _Gods, is this what a kiss feels like? I will never stop kissing him, the feel of his tongue makes me want to never let go._

 

Her lips are soft, so much better than he’d ever imagined. Kissing her was like coming alive after wandering like a ghost for all eternity. It was sweet, so sweet, it was the best he’d ever known. _I never want to let go._

 

Sansa lowers her hand to his neck, his shoulders, his chest. Her palm touches his heart, and she can feel his palpitations. She swears that she can hear the sound of his heart beating, for it seemed like it was dancing at the rhythm of her own. Jon’s hands are now rested at her face, his grip soft, yet firm. He pulls her in, as if he’s desperate to get her even closer.

 

She can feel a heat between her legs, as he can feel a forming bulge down his pants. Sansa groans, reluctantly parting the kiss.

 

“I’m not scared anymore”, she sighs, their faces still touching. Her breath is warm and she tastes like lemon-cake heaven. “I don’t know how to do this, Jon, I really don’t. But I know that I feel weak without it, without you. I want a real love.”

 

“I will give it to you. I will love you until the day I die. I love you, Sansa. I love you so very much. I never stopped loving you”, he confessed in a whisper. He wiped a tear off of her face, closing the distance between them once again.

 

It is a different kiss. It’s hot, and steamy, and she feels like her body is going to explode. She begins to move against him, as he encourages her to find her pace. He moans against her lips, and she feels her heart skip a bit.

 

“This feels really good”, she affectionately whispers.

 

He lifts her up and parts the kiss only to let go of their clothing. He needed to feel her skin against his skin. He longed for that feeling.

 

When Jon takes off her crown, she lets go of all the pain and loneliness that had come along with the duties of being Queen in The North. No, right now she was only Sansa. It is an act of extreme intimacy that makes her heart melt. She cannot believe that he is standing right before her in his small clothes, as is she. Sansa takes a moment to take in his scars. She approaches him and starts kissing every one of them.

 

_I will help you heal. You can always come to me. I will never let you come apart. I want to be the best that you’ve ever known. I love every bit of you._

 

Jon feels a pit in his stomach as she watches her kiss all of his scars. From now on, they just got this new meaning. He feels so loved. She filled his scars with so much love and adoration. He can’t help himself anymore, so he catches her face and lifts her up to meet her eyes. He starts to kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, her chin. She closes her eyes to feel his lips against her bare skin. Jon kisses her lips once again.

 

_I will never leave you again. I was so lost, until I found you. I had no one, until I found you. You are my purpose. You can always rely on me. I will help you and I will trust you. I promise I will listen to you. I love every bit of you._

 

She feels her back against the fabric of her bed mattress. His chest felt amazingly good against her boobs, and he was taking her with oh so much attention and caution and love. She closes her eyes and moans as he delivers wet kisses all over her body. When his full lips touch her cunt, she feels like she is dreaming. _Jon_ is everything that comes out of her mouth as he gives her all the pleasure she’s ever known. Sansa didn’t know that she could feel it, let yet enjoy it so much.

 

He felt like his cock was going to explode. He needed to feel her so very much, he wanted to fill her and make her feel whole. Hell, he wanted to feel whole. She was everything that he’s always wanted, and he could not believe that she was his.

 

She felt the urge to kiss him on the mouth again, wanting to thank him for everything that he was making her feel. She felt her salty juices on his lips, but did not care. He was hers, and she was his.

He positioned himself at her entrance. Sansa quickly spread her legs for him. _Please, please, please, give me all of your love._

 

“Tell me when you want me to stop.”

 

“Never”, she answers, never been so certain of anything in her entire life.

 

“Then keep your eyes open. I want you to look at me as I make love the most beautiful love to you.”

 

He says it in a whisper, their foreheads are touching, and he is looking deep into her eyes.

 

When he slides home, she welcomes him with open arms.

 

***

 

When the sunlight enters her chambers, it doesn’t take long to wake Sansa up. She scratches her eyes and lazily yawns. She can feel Jon’s thick muscles beneath her head, his breathing so smooth it almost makes her sleep again. She starts to draw lines at his bare chest, admiring his face.

 

“You won’t stop staring, will ya?”, his husky voice breaks the silence. Sansa giggles.

 

“I’m admiring your beautiful face”, she touches the tip of his nose, making Jon finally open his eyes. He turns his body so they are, now, face to face.

 

“I’d say it’s creepy, but I find myself doing the exact same thing to you quite often”, he breathes, giving her a peck on the lips. “Good morning, love. Happy anniversary.”

 

She caresses his thick black beard. “Happy anniversary, Jon.”

 

He lowers himself to her belly, spreading his fingers and sharing kisses all over it. “And good morning to my beautiful girl.”

 

Sansa gently puts her hands on his black curls, smiling at his gesture. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

 

“I just know it. The same way that I did with Robb. We must talk to the boy, Sans. He is growing to be quite jealous of his unborn sister”, he worries. Sansa shakes her head.

 

“It’s going to be okay, love. Robb is going to be the best big brother we could ask for”, she smiles, giving him reassurance.

 

She loved the way he looked after their family. She loved the way that he gave her a family when she thought she was going to end up all alone.

 

Jon adores their morning bliss. It happens everyday before they have to do their duties as Queen and King In The North. He couldn’t believe this was his life. That he got to be a father to his own children and a husband of a beautiful, sweet woman that he loved so very much. And it was just the beginning of their lives.

 

She thought the most glorious day of her life was the day that she had wed Jon. And it was. Until Robb was born, and they chose his name in a heartbeat. Of course it would be Robb. He had beautiful, black hair and deep blue eyes.

 

He kept giving her belly kisses, talking to their child, and she started to get emotional as she watched the scene.

 

“Jon”, she softly calls him. He looks up at her, a half-smile on his face. “I want to call her Lyanna.”

 

He understands what she means, of course he does. He smiles with his teeth now, climbing the bed to kiss her gently on the lips.

 

“I love you, Sansa. I needed you more than I’ll ever know, and you gave me all of your love. You gave me a family of my own. You are perfect for me.”

 

She smiles. “It’s a beautiful day out there.”

 

 _It’s a beautiful life_ , he thinks. Spring was here, giving him the life of his dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Since the series finale, I've been miserable for days. I can't believe that was really the ending. So I tried to write what I would like to see onscreen. 
> 
> This is what happens in my head, since they did Jon and Jonsa so dirty. Their last hug really touched me, I was inspired by their goodbye scene. When I saw this gifset ((https://sansastarkw.tumblr.com/post/185025226783/c-sand-the-north-is-free-thanks-to-youbut-they), I had some thoughts about it, but the scene (and everything in general) still bugged me, so I tried to write the version of my dreams, in which Jon has a POV and we get to see (or read lmao), they actually talk about stuff, instead of cutting straight up to another scene. 
> 
> I really want to know how you guys feel about this. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing this piece. Oh, and also I’ve never written anything for GoT, and English is also not my first language, so bear with me, please! 
> 
> If you want to talk, please feel free to contact me in my tumblr! I’m always in pain and discussing all things jonsa there (sansastarkw.tumblr.com). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S Title is from Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys


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